


sound | touch | sight | touch | taste.

by stxrryy



Series: oneshots. // danganronpa [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Deathswap, F/M, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Lowercase, Mild Blood, POV Third Person, Repetition, leosaya - Freeform, this hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24545227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stxrryy/pseuds/stxrryy
Summary: leon can hear footsteps.echoing,ringingin his mind.are they his anymore?he has to check.
Relationships: Kuwata Leon/Maizono Sayaka
Series: oneshots. // danganronpa [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773979
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	sound | touch | sight | touch | taste.

leon can hear footsteps.

it takes him a moment to realize they're his own.

yes, leon is walking.

he is walking through the halls of hope's peak. halls that used to be filled with familiar faces of ultimate students. so filled, you could almost get lost and drown in the sea of people.

each step is him leaving behind a different memory of this place.

one step - taka gathers them in the classroom at the right to take photos. one of them is taken by makoto naegi. he's not in the photo. one look at the photo and you can see him wearing that same jacket he’s had for however long.

two step - leon walks outside to find another baseball field, just like the ones he used to grow up with. except, instead of hatred dwelling in his heart like he was known for, he feels fond of the place and picks up a baseball on his own accord. one swing and he lets go of his worries. his hatred. his despair.

three step - sayaka—

but now these halls are empty.

a few days ago, leon had walked aimlessly through these corridors, searching for someone, something to help him. if he had known of the fate that was waiting for him, would he have locked himself inside that classroom and left himself to starve, knowing no one outside the locked door, and leaving them to find his cold and pathetic corpse?

probably not. that would’ve been seen as pathetic, after all.

where did he start the walk that day?

a random classroom.

but leon was not in a random classroom, and he wasn't headed towards a gym that would let him know of his home's - and soon his life’s - current status.

leon was headed to a dorm room, just like his own. well, somewhat. his one was covered in band posters, and cds, and was just really messy. he was pretty sure the girl who owned this room was much more organised than him. then again, who isn’t?

besides, he was headed to a girl's dorm room at night time. even if he didn't talk about music or be there for her in her time of need, there was nothing bad that would come out of that.

just a while ago, leon made the exact same journey, except it was to a different room.

a room that seemed to show his cousin's fate.

granted, it was not the room, but a disc that he decided to play by his own hands. and sure, his cousin's blood was not intentionally on his hands, but maybe if he hadn't made the decision to play the disc along with everyone else, he wouldn't have her on his mind.

just like maybe if he had locked himself away from the world in that lonely classroom, not having one worry about the outside world, but instead his need for food and water and sanity. maybe that’s what happened to kanon.

no, she’s still alive. he knows that.

…

would this room show his fate?

no. leon doesn't believe that for a second.

leon believes in himself, and his journey to leave behind the baseball fields in favour of mosh pits and stages shone with colourful lights. even if the leon who had happiness and hope doesn’t want to leave the baseball fields and instead, decides to cheat the system and pick both.

leon believes in escaping this hellhole, no matter how many days or how many people or how many sacrifices it takes, if it comes to that. even if everyone else is cowering in fear and despair, he knows that he won’t ever spill blood. even if everyone is dropping like flies around him, he won’t let himself think the worst.

and leon believes in sayaka. he always has, even if he walked past— no, was forced to forget those cherished memories long ago—

leon's hand is cold.

just his right hand.

he glances down at the sudden cold feeling rushing to his palm and notices that his hand is wrapped around a doorknob. it’s just like the one on his door; each dorm door is the same.

it's now that he considers leaving. he considers running back through those empty corridors and locking himself in the room that he shouldn't be used to. the room that he is used to.

but no. it's too late for him to think things over now, because he knows that sayaka heard the rustling on the other side. it'd leave her disappointed if he didn't greet her when she wanted him to so badly.

leon isn't entirely sure why she needed - for a better word, wanted - him to show up in her room. she never really specified on the note that's now stuffed in his pocket.

besides, why was he so worried? sayaka would never hurt him. well, not in a physical way. it hurts him a little to see her so close to makoto, but that wasn't really her fault. that was kinda his fault for falling for her. it is his fault for not letting go of those feelings, even if he has no memories of the two close together to show for it.

he pushes it open, knowing what's waiting for him inside. she's waiting, with open arms—

no, she's just waiting there. maybe she's thinking about the stage lights that she wants to return to, or him, or this entire killing game.

so scratch that. he doesn't know what's waiting for him, but he can most certainly make a guess.

leon can see a familiar face inside that room.

she's walking over to him, waiting to see if he'll shut the door soon.

her hair is down, and a hairbrush sits just in his peripheral vision. was she.. trying to look good for him? even if she was trying or not, she looked beautiful. she always did.

ever since he met her here, he noticed how pretty she was. most pop stars cover themselves in makeup and sure, most look good like that, but there was something about a girl who didn’t need makeup or anything to look so good.

he can hear the fumbling of the door handle once again. It’s him closing the door over, but he’s so focused on what to say he can’t even register anything happening around him. god, he must be so flustered.

maybe he should make a move.

maybe he should start the conversation.

if he wants to keep up this tough punk kid shit, he'd want to start talking.

it's almost as if he's being put on trial with how nervous he is. who would've known that all of this worry comes from a single high school girl?

well, not just a high school girl. she's the ultimate pop sensation; in short, an idol who's loved all over the world for her angelic voice.

it's probably normal for him to be nervous around her.

it's not because he's worried about this whole killing thing around her.

he trusts her.

leon can hear his voice. it comes out rushed, not at all like the cocky baseball kid he was when he first arrived at this place, and certainly not like the punk kid that he's sure maizono is used to by now.

just like him to get nervous the one time he doesn’t want to be.

"y-ya needed me for somethin', right? i read the note you slipped under my door. it didn't say what you needed me for though, so i wasn't sure—"

it takes a single blink.

leon can see what's in her right hand.

he shuts his mouth abruptly and noticeably. it’s obvious he’s staring at her right hand, as if trying to prove that he imagined it. that it was just an illusion.

it glints off the lights in her room and scares him. just a little. because leon isn't the type to get scared, even if he thinks he saw a knife. no, he’s not scared. he’s concerned.

as she takes another step forward, he sees it again. there's no denying what it is now, and he knows that. but maybe she isn't holding a knife in her hands. maybe it's a bottle or something else reflecting the dim lights of her room.

there isn't any denying she's holding a knife in her hands, intended to pierce his skin and go through his stomach, ripping him apart and spilling the blood inside him along with those stupid feelings that he had for her.

yet he's still trying to do it.

he’s not scared.

he blinks again.

now leon can feel himself moving back. she's nearing closer and he's backing up against the wooden door that separates him from freedom and safety and he's gonna die here and noonewillsavehim—

in another second, he can hear sayaka's voice calling out. it's like everything is moving in slow motion apart from her words, and it takes him a second to process what she's saying.

but everything isn't moving in slow motion, and soon leon will come to that realisation.

"i'm sorry," she says. she's scared and he can hear it in her soft yet shaky voice. he still can't seem to look her in the eyes, as his gaze is focused on the blade that shines in the light above them. will that blade soon glisten with maroon blood covering it's metal surface? was she really going to strike at him?

leon can hear his own voice filling the silence.

he can feel the sweat rolling down his face. he was nervous, he wasn’t crying. leon doesn't cry, even if he is face to face with his inevitable fate. even if he knows he'll never say goodbye to kanon, who's waiting for him to come back to the baseball fields he used to practice in. even if he has to face the fact he'll never see those baseball fields.

"please. sayaka— we can talk, you don't have to—" but what is the use in talking to somebody whose already made up their mind..?

leon doesn't understand that. he doesn't realise that sayaka thought of this plan and she wanted to see it through.

no. she had to. she had to get out, didn't she? she didn't just want to kill someone who looked up to her and wanted her attention and changed to fit her and not anyone else in this fucked-up world. not even himself.

"i have to leave. i need to leave. we can't talk."

she inches closer to him. her breath comes out in broken sighs. it's shaking like crazy, and all he wants to do is open his arms and tell her that everything is okay. that hope is on their side and they can all escape together.

but leon knows now that he can't change himself for her any longer. the part of her that might've loved - or at least tried to love - him was burned and its charred ashes flows through the wind in the despair-filled world outside these metal and bolts keeping them all in.

…

leon can feel the door push up against his back. its keeping him in, purposefully keeping him away for the freedom he so desperately wants right now. the life he so desperately needs back is just around the corner. but the corner is now blocked by a girl wielding a knife and threatening to take his dreams and freedom away somewhere he knows he'll never see it again.

leon has no choice but to accept defeat. he can’t attack her. he promised himself that he wouldn’t get any blood on his hands, and certainly not sayaka maizono’s blood. anyone other than her. it didn’t matter if she loved him or not, he wouldn’t let himself ever do that.

yet when leon sees the knife swing at him, he jumps, and runs somewhere. anywhere. he can’t see because his eyes are darting everywhere in the room to look for a means of escape, and can’t focus on one thing. he’s so scared. leon isn’t supposed to be scared.

leon can see the pain and fear and misery in her eyes. all of it sums up to one word that leon cannot say, or accept, or believe. she can’t fall into despair. she’s the first one here that’s given up on any way of escaping together and going back to normal life. she’s willing to kill to escape, even if it means she’ll be selfish and leave everyone else trapped in this hellhole.

but leon can't do that, even if it means his blood is smeared on these walls and he won't be able to see the baseball fields or stage lights or kanon or his future that was supposed to be full of dreams he could only imagine.

he knew all of this, even before she swung at him, over and over, the blade nearing with every swing. he knew this before backing up, having no where else to run in this small room that kept him from the future and running away to somewhere it was safer.

this room was the truth that no one wanted to admit, covered with lies and despair. it was the way out that everyone threw away, apart from someone so homesick and desperate and ruthless that they would end a life for their own sake.

leon would never call sayaka any names, but if he had known that she would act like this to someone who trusted her and was weak enough to put their trust in her, he wasn’t sure that he would’ve walked into her room in the first place, even if it meant she’d be left alone and their bond would be broken.

funny.

that bond was already broken, by this sick and twisted killing game.

it wasn’t like anything could bring the past they loved so much back.

…

leon can’t feel it.

but when he looks down, his chest is splattered in red.

all over the jacket he found one lucky day and wore since.

all over the chains that took him ages to collect.

but it doesn't faze him that his favourite jacket is ruined, or his chains will probably never look this polished again, with blood covering their surface.

he knows how much it should hurt.

it should hurt like thousands of baseballs being pummeled at him, like a different leon who also walked past his memories, but instead of his own blood on his hands, that leon got to live another day. get another chance to go back to those dreaded baseball fields, or the stage lights that he always longed for, or even the tables where they'd all eat pancakes and talk about ways to escape.

but it doesn't. it doesn't hurt; his entire body is numb to the feeling of hurt until he takes a glance into sayaka's eyes for the first time since he walked into the room.

they're filled with blame, and pity, and despair. they cause him to lose touch with everything around him, yet plunge him into everything at the same time. leon doesn't realise anyone can do that the way she can, but that works both ways.

each time he stares into her eyes, he can see the tears welling up, yet feel his own eyes watering. no, leon doesn't cry. leon isn't scared, and leon is okay.

but sayaka isn't okay, and that makes him feel worse. that's the pain in his stomach that leaks out rivers of red, and stains the clothes he once treasured. it leaks out, and travels down cracks of lost memories, filling his head with everything she's said and done.

he knows he's lost something too powerful to remember after being dragged down those corridors where each one was grabbed and pulled away to whoever knows where.

he remembers each thing he's said.

and each thing she's said.

and they all melt together to make up the tears that flow out of his eyes.

she tries to say sorry, she tries to apologise under mumbled breaths, but it means nothing to her anymore. she sees him as nothing more than a speck of dirt on her glamorous outfits she'd wear onstage and he knows it, even if he tried to push it aside or not believe in it.

he knows of her screams at him, telling him to never forget that beautiful face that lit up like stars in the night sky every time he'd give her a gentle kiss on the lips.

_"please, don't forget me. don't forget us!"_

he knows of her promises to never let him go like that one day where they were all separated from each other and their memories together.

_"i won't, kay? i promise."_

"live for me. don't forget that, 'kay? you gotta— ya gotta get out of here."

leon can hear coughing.

sputtering, gasping for air, choking.

that's all he can hear for a little while.

then, leon can taste nothing but metal; blood falling from his mouth in gasps and wet coughs.

everything that should be setting in at this point is nonexistent in his brain. he doesn't realise that what he's choking on is his own blood, escaping through his mouth and leaking down the side of his lips. dripping down, and finally meeting the puddle of maroon that he sits in.

he can't seem to grasp that everything around him is falling at the seams, but he does know that a girl who stands on stage and sings like an angel is standing above him, tears falling down her porcelain face and combining with the crimson dripping from him. combining together, like they were meant to be one and once were one.

now they're just face to face with each other. staring sadly, and bleakly, and trying to hold back tears.

she sighs softly. like a hum that would come from her mouth every time she'd sit down with him at lunch. "i will, i promise. i—i have to get out. i didn't want to do this, i swear.."

her voice is broken, standing on another stage where lights flicker in her face. the lights leon wanted and the lights leon never got.

leon isn't upset with her, though. he knows she speaks the truth. she will get out of here.

even if he isn't around to see it, he knows she'll take a step out of this horrible place, and that this is the only choice she had to get back to that stage and finish that performance. he'll be waiting for her in the audience, watching her life unfold before his glossy eyes.

…

his vision is fading. he can see blobs of colour. blue, her hair that would shine as she ran with him in gym.

white, the colour of the shirt she'd wear under that stupid brown uniform that leon would never wear, even if he wanted to now.

but that white is now covered in a bright and striking red, and leon won't get to see it another way. he'll close his eyes, and the only thing that he'll see until darkness takes over is her teary and sad face, and then her clothes, splattered, and then her shoes.

it looks the same as that torn and sad innocent girl, clinging to a fence that separated them as something unknown grabbed him by the collar to whatever came next. it sounds the same too.

he's going to close his eyes to whatever comes next, which will most likely be darkness.

but as he does, he can hear her voice, loud and clear as if it were him saying it out loud too. their voices combine, but they mean the same thing.

she's screaming at the top of her lungs, tearful, unlike the sayaka standing in front of him, who's completely different and couldn't remember anything about him, as sad as it is to admit for him.

give her a sign.

and so he does, in the sound of incoherent mumbles that sound nothing like the baseball player who hated baseball and thought punk rock was cool

_until he met her_

_and he was taught to love both_

_and love her too._

"hey, don't forget me. don't forget—.. us."

and while

leon cant **hear** his footsteps racing to her room, walking past everything they had together,

or **feel** the coldness in his hand as he grabs the door handle and walks right into his fate,

or **see** the familiar face that's too familiar now that he can remember everything he's done,

or **feel** the warm tears rushing down his face, as much as he'd hate to admit it,

or **taste** the blood that fills his mouth that seems to spill out truths that he never knew he knew,

sayaka lets out a small sob, before muttering.

"i won't. i promise."

she takes footsteps that he'll never hear again, walking over and closing his bleak and lifeless eyes, before walking off, leaving the note that would soon be her demise in his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> i promise i'll post more than leosaya someday
> 
> you know what  
> if you see this comment in the next oneshot i put up here and tell me i wasn't wrong
> 
> but yeah this really hurt to write no lie  
> i write a whole lotta angst but idk this just felt next level lol  
> bye bye love you all


End file.
